


Drinking Games

by BleedingCoffee



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Drinking Games, Shipping Royai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingCoffee/pseuds/BleedingCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mustang, Havoc and Breda go out for drinks.  Roy loses the drinking game and his friends decide to see if they can get Riza and Roy to admit their feelings and/or relationship.  Pic prompt inspired by a piece of fanart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking Games

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer, I don't own FMA
> 
> Pic on my Tumblr acct, BleedingCoffee42. Probably will be a two chapter fic.

Havoc raised the bottle of expensive bourbon in a gesture of victory as Mustang’s head hit the bar-top. “And he’s out!”

 

Breda slapped his hand on the bar to see if the Colonel stirred. When he didn’t budge he let out a fit of drunken laughter and grabbed his beer. He tried to clink it against Havoc’s bottle, but used a bit too much force and as the two glass containers collided, the bottle cracked.

 

Havoc let out a wail as the precious whiskey streamed out of the bottle and onto Mustang’s black hair along with a few chunks of glass . He lamented the loss of the liqueur as he watched it pool around the man’s head as he lie unconscious slumped over the bar. He flicked the piece of glass off his Colonel’s head before grabbing him by the coat and pulling him up off the bar.

 

Breda watched the events play out as Havoc inspected the liquid on the bartop to see if if was salvageable. He half expected him to start licking it up. “So much for your prize.”

 

There was a distinguishable mocking laugh from his best friend after that statement and Havoc frowned. What was the point of winning the drinking game if he didn’t even get a sip of the victory whiskey after he won it? “But I won!”

 

Breda finished his beer and wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. “We’ll…we can always call Hawkeye to pick him up and see if you can’t win the office pool. Buy your own damned fancy booze.”

 

Havoc still had a hold of Mustang’s coat effectively keeping him upright. His bosses’s mouth hung open as whiskey dripped out of his hair and down his face. Peanut skins were plastered on his cheek from his unceremonious crash into the dirty bar-top. He thought about the office pool they had going, the “Who makes them slip up and admit they’re in love” jackpot. They also had a pool on how long it would take before Mustang realized his Mom was having phone sex with Grumman but that was taking so long it was depressing. Jean looked at the Colonel’s drunken, drool/bourbon/peanut covered face and smirked. What the hell, why not? Payback for that brunette with the double D’s he stole from him last week. “Yeah. Lets call Hawkeye to pick up her Colonel. We’re too drunk to drive.”

 

"We’re very responsible." Breda snorted as Havoc let go of Mustang and the Colonel’s head smacked into the bar again. They both paused and waited to make sure he wasn’t going to fall off the bar stool before they went to the phone. He was proud of them for taking that measure, then realized they probably should be a bit more concerned about their brilliant commander’s brain being bruised than him hitting the sticky floor. Then again if he wasn’t using that brain of his to figure out that Grumman was talking dirty to Madam Christmas all the time it wasn’t really that valuable of an asset.

 

Havoc pulled the card with the team’s phone numbers out of his wallet and watched Breda put the change into the pay phone. He dialed Hawkeye and put the card away, careful to return his wallet to where it belonged before he put it somewhere his inebriated mind couldn’t recall. “Hawkeye!?”

 

Breda winced as Havoc yelled a bit too loudly to make sure she heard him over the noise in the bar.

 

"Hi. Yeah, maybe a little. The Colonel is passed out." Havoc declared and smiled at Breda.

 

Breda put his head against the wall and waited.

 

Jean cleared his throat. “Hawkeye can you come get him? We can’t drive.”

 

Breda added with mock urgency and panic in his voice, “Help Jean! They’re circling!”

 

Havoc had to suppress a giggle as he heard her ask what was circling, buzzards? “Worse! Fan girls! It’s like an episode of ‘When fan girls attack!’ We can barely keep then off him, he’s defenseless. Passed out…they’re ruthless bitches.”

 

"Jean! Get over here and help me! I can’t get this one off his leg!" Breda cried out in his best distressed voice before giving in to some giggles and having Havoc kick him.

 

"God Hawkeye its like they’re in heat! Breda and I are going to try and get him out back to the alley and keep him safe before they start tearing his clothes off. Hurry! We’re at the Village Tavern. Breda quick, that blond has his hand in her mouth! Hell man, those fingers are insured! We don’t know where she’s been, don’t let her suck on that!"

 

Breda chuckled as he slammed the phone down and they both turned to look at their beloved Colonel as he slipped off the bar stool and flopped onto the ground. He shrugged. “All fangirl related injuries. Totally plausible.”

 

“So rock paper scissors to determine who gets his wallet out of his pants and pays our tab?” Havoc asked and smirked. He was beginning to feel the ill effects of the drinking game and wasn’t really sure at this point he’d be able to recall the rules.

 

“Sure! Go!”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Hawkeye came around the corner of the bar and into the barely lit alley she could only shake her head. There under the porch light by the back door of the bar set the mighty Flame Alchemist. Roy was propped up against a stack of empty crates with a gray tabby cat rubbing against his side and twitching it’s tail, a sign that the feline had sprayed his jacket before walking away to avoid her gaze and wrath. She walked up to him and looked down at the sorry mess that was her commander. His jacket was covered in peanut shells, some paper products were stuck to him with some amber goo and it looked like some glass fragments were in his hair. She looked over at Havoc who was sitting on a crate smoking and Breda who gave her a cheerful grin. “You’re just lucky it’s Friday night and you all don’t have to be at work until Monday.”

 

“Fangirls….outnumbered us. You might want to be careful to not touch his hand just yet.” Havoc mumbled. “We haven’t had time to disinfect it.”

 

“So fangirls are the reason he has glass in his hair, smells like a distillery and cat piss and looks like he slept in a dumpster?” She asked and the both grinned, showing their lack of innocence.

 

“A bottle broke during a toast.” Havoc said and snickered.

 

“It’s Mustang,” Breda added, “No surprise that a pussy couldn’t help rubbing all over him.”

 

Havoc snorted and started to laugh. He wanted to add something but just couldn’t manage it.

 

“Do you have his keys?” She asked.

 

Breda shook his head. “Getting in his pants is not in my job description.”

 

Havoc cackled and slapped his knee. “Show us how it’s done Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

 

She glared at them both and bent down to carefully peel back his jacket so she didn’t touch the cat piss. She was glad he was unconscious, last thing she needed was him mewling something inappropriate as she snaked her hand into his pocket to get his keys.

 

Meanwhile Havoc prayed to God that Mustang would awake from his stupor and confess his undying love for the woman hovering over him. It wasn’t happening on it’s own so he said a bit too loudly, “Yeah Hawkeye, get your hand in there deep and pull it out.”

 

Breda bit his lip as she shot them both a glare and in a swift move pulled her gun from her back holster and pointed it at them. They both gulped.

 

“One more word and you both go to the hospital with flesh wounds tonight.” She watched them both nod and turned as Mustang stirred. Her hand in his pocket froze and she hoped he would just stay unconscious.

 

Breda and Havoc held their breathe as they watched Mustang move a little. This could be it, it could be the moment!

 

Riza hurried and grabbed his keys, retracted her hand and holstered her gun in one quick movement. She took a deep breathe and stood up. “Where’s his car?”

 

“Across the street.” Breda replied and looked down as Mustang moved again, a slight twitch.

 

“Can you carry him?” She prodded. They had to know the alley was too small for the car and the entrance to the bar way too busy to double park in front of it while they tried to wrestle him out of his jacket and throw him in the back seat.

 

Havoc nodded. Yeah, they could carry him and poke him in the kidneys a few times to try and wake him up. “Yup.”

 

Breda bent down to pick him up and realized he smelled terrible and it would likely rub off on his only nice suit. “A little help getting this coat off?”

 

Havoc tried to pull the jacket off as Breda held the Colonel by his vest and steadied him. “Hey Colonel, we’re going to take you home. Hawkeye’s here. She’s going to drive us home.”

 

Breda shook his head. No response.

 

Havoc peeled the jacket off and and held it as far away from him as if it was a dirty diaper. He watched Breda lift the smaller man up, put his arm around his neck and carry/drag him towards the street. So far, no good. However they still had the car ride and getting him settled into his apartment to get him to awake up. He felt it in his gut, tonight was the night! Much better than a drinking game.


End file.
